Fractured Heart
by yassandra
Summary: What happens when your biggest enemy is yourself? Sequel to Sins of Omission. Set during 1x04 A Twist of Fate.


A/N And once again I am in the realms of angst!

I didn't intend to write a sequel to Sins of Omission - and then this happened. I'm pretty sure it will also be a twoshot.

* * *

"_But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself; you lie in wait for yourself in caverns and forests. Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself!" ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra _

* * *

He's been letting things slip more and more lately; letting things out that he never wanted to say – never wanted them to know; letting them see little pieces of himself that he meant to keep hidden. And it's not that he's telling them anything he shouldn't – not telling them about the future – it's more that the pieces he is showing are the bits of himself that aren't all that pretty and part of him is afraid that he will scare them way – that they won't like what they see in spite of all they have been through together; that they will leave him. It is a lesson that he learned young (too young) – don't get attached, don't let anybody see who you really are, don't hope for too much. He knows that he is getting in too deep this time, opening his heart too much, but he wants (oh how desperately he wants) to believe that this time it can be different – that this time they might actually care.

The first time he let the mask slip was after the bull leaping – when he told them he could look after himself – when he let a little of his bitterness slip through. It's happened too many times since then though. Too many occasions when he's come too close to saying something he shouldn't. It worries him – this sudden lack of ability to hide himself, to hide his feelings, because it's always been something he's been remarkably good at.

As always they are short of money (Hercules has almost certainly been raiding the joint fund for wine money again). So when the big man suggests going hunting it seems like a really good idea – a cheap way of putting food on the table. Over the last few weeks he's discovered he's fairly good with a bow – can shoot reasonably accurately (it must come from the same place as the sudden acrobatic ability – though where that comes from anybody's guess) – so off they go into the woods looking to catch something for the pot.

The woods are cool and soothing after the stifling heat of the city (why is it always so hot – doesn't it ever rain here?) and he relaxes more than he has in weeks. Game seems to be scarce but they have plenty of time – it's not as if any of them have work to go to, although a job wouldn't come amiss right now. Before long Hercules is moaning, complaining that this hunt is beneath his abilities – even though he was the one to suggest it in the first place. By now he knows to ignore this constant light whinging – it is simply Hercules' way – just as he knows that the constant stream of amusing comments, the poking fun at one another, is the way his two friends show their affection for each other (sometimes he even dares to think that they show affection for him this way too). He almost smiles as they start up the banter again (and really Hercules is right for once – who brings a kitchen knife as a hunting weapon?), then a sound in the bushes distracts him and he tries to shush them, mind focussing on the task in hand.

He sees the baby before either of the other two, even as the spear leaves Hercules' hand, and he reaches out without looking and stops it in mid air, just an inch from the child. For once he is supremely grateful for his unnaturally quick reaction times (although it is still sort of scary that he can do this sort of thing without even thinking).

As the others explain to him that the child has probably been left deliberately – probably been abandoned to die – his gut wrenches, and just for a moment he is a small boy again being told that his father won't be coming home, has left him alone. He doesn't understand how anyone could willingly do that to a child – can't begin to understand a society that would happily accept the sacrifice of a baby as the will of the Gods. Picking up the baby seems like the most natural thing in the world right now and he misses the twin looks of horror on his friend's faces. As his friends try to convince him to put it back where he found it, he cradles the child to himself already knowing that he will do whatever it takes to keep this little one safe, even though he is being told that he cannot defy the Gods. The only problem he has now is that he's never really held a baby before and has no idea how to calm it down, so he tries to pass it off to his friends hoping that one of them will have more idea than him. Surprisingly it is Hercules that the child responds to, even though he is the biggest advocate for putting it back and leaving the way they came. But as he watches the big man's face change as he looks at the child he knows there will be no more serious talk about leaving it behind, and he relaxes enough to start teasing lightly, smiling as he knows that for better or worse the baby will be returning to Atlantis with them.

* * *

As he wanders through the market he wonders what the hell you give a baby to eat – he knows this is something he should probably know already but to be completely honest he's never really been all that good with people and this sort of thing has passed him by somewhere on the way. He tries to think but can't quite focus properly, a bone deep weariness coursing through him. Ever since he was a child his sleep patterns have been somewhat irregular – some nights he sleeps deeply, peacefully, and others he is lucky to get more than a couple of hours sleep – but lately they have been particularly bad. He doesn't think he's had a full night's sleep in weeks. More often than not he creeps out onto the roof at some point during the night and looks out over the city, waiting for sunrise. It's all beginning to catch up with him and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the impending headache that he can feel lurking behind his eyes.

Medusa's kind voice cuts through his reverie as she informs him of just how tired he looks. As he tells her of the baby they found and the situation they are in, the royal party passes and he drops to his knees beside the girl (at least he knows to do this now). He feels absurdly grateful when Medusa takes charge of the situation, leading him from stall to stall to find the things she thinks are absolutely necessary for the proper care of the boy, even if it does mean she turns him into little more than a glorified packhorse – useful for carrying the purchases and little else.

* * *

In the woods with Pythagoras once again, his thoughts begin to wander to the boy's mother and so to his own (don't go there, really don't go there), and he finds himself speculating out loud about what the woman must have felt (if it wasn't her that exposed the baby of course – and he'll be damned before he can believe that any woman would willingly do that!). His emotions are running wild right now and when he makes the comment about no-one deserving to grow up not knowing their mother, the only excuse he can give himself is that he is tired. He feels Pythagoras' sympathetic gaze on the back of his neck and hurries on, aware that he has exposed too much of himself once again and uncomfortably certain that the blonde genius has worked out that he was talking more about himself than the baby. To do him credit Pythagoras does not raise the subject – does not try to get any information out of him – just smiles softly, compassionately (and damn if that doesn't burn more than anything) and turns back to the task at hand.

* * *

Time seems to move more quickly after they find that the child is the son of King Laius – an urgent dash through the city, a nearly impossible jump with the child in his arms, running, sneaking, hiding – all in a desperate attempt to get the baby to safety. He can't explain why it is so important to him – doesn't really know – all his emotions and thoughts and memories warring in his head until he can only hear one voice, one sound – run. They must get the child out of the city, must make for the border. He snaps at Pythagoras and Hercules (mainly Hercules) several times during their flight through the city, and he knows he should apologise, should not take out his confusion and anger at the situation on his friends, but there isn't the time.

The gate is heavily guarded – too heavily – so he stops and thinks, already starting to form half a plan in his mind. It is desperate and probably futile but there is just a slim outside chance it might work. He pulls an old cloak around himself and clutches the watermelon as if it were a baby, and steps out to face the guards.

Running back through the streets with what seems like every guard in Atlantis on his heels, he allows himself to spare a brief thought for his friends, to hope that they got away cleanly. As he jumps and land on the pole above his head, spinning and somersaulting over it to land neatly on a rooftop, he is pleasantly surprised that such a simple ruse worked (and isn't it a good thing that the city seems to employ such downright stupid guards?). Although he is not away and clear yet, he trusts in his own abilities to escape those searching for him and starts to make his way to the rendezvous with his friends in the woods surrounding the city.

The woods are as cool and fresh as they were when he and his friends were hunting (and was that really only two days ago?). As he jogs up behind his two friends, he catches the end of a conversation that seems to involve him and what the guards would do to him if he had been caught. He is touched to hear the note of concern in both their voices, to know that they are worried about him, and he smiles as he lets them know he is there. Although he breaks the group hug before it has really started (can't crush the baby) it feels nice to be accepted, worried about, cared for. His heart feels lighter than it has for a while and he revels in the feeling even as they prepare to make the journey to the border.


End file.
